I am not a writer of fiction, although some of you would disagree. It is true however, that I like to "doctor up" the average story. Luke, my younger brother, would tell you that I "exaggerate", but like many storytellers before me, I simply wish to provide you with the best story I can. If that makes the night a little more scary, the response a little too absurd, or the fish a little bit bigger, I am sorry.
I believe a good story has a beginning, a middle, and an end - and lots of juicy details in between. I'm getting ahead of myself though. I am not usually the one to write the story... I think life is too devastatingly beautiful (and short) to not capture and therefore celebrate the moments that without proper documentation, can quickly start to fade and become dreamy, like dusk. They are the "I'm so fucking happy to be alive!" moments when life is so big and so around you that it has to be real. Sometimes it's real to the point you feel so blessed that it takes your breath away. And sometimes it's gonna be so real that it hurts, but I am finding that vulnerability is beautiful in it's own regards because it's so damn organic. When our happiness is compromised, we are fresh, minimally processed, and at times, raw. We see things a different way. We love our friends a little more for being exactly who they are and miss the way that the Lake Michigan tide sounds and you can listen to a certain song a million times because it makes you feel sad, but strong.
I would say that I am most comfortable and fumble the least on my words through the form of poetry. And my words, that way at least, are beautiful. None the less, I feel that I have stories to tell... the characters that are at my fingertips because they are actual people and I am cursed and blessed to interact with them daily are a writer's goldmine. And above all other worldly charms, words are my magic. I will probably rant and I will probably write a lot about my life - the odd vices and energy and chaotic habits that come hand-in-hand with being a full-time waitress, and I will write about my cats - Rasta and Knox - because I'm one more SPCA visit away from being a crazy cat lady. I will write about cooking, and food, and wine, because they are what make me happy. I will probably write about the search for love, because comically, I'm really bad at it. And, you can bet I will write about Lake Michigan, about her water - because it has been a peaceful place for my soul for so many years.
For now, I am I am having a hard time admitting that summer is over. I am outside, on my beloved porch in the dark, and someone nearby is playing bluegrass music. The sound travels through the September air, a bit more crisp than I would like, wrapping around streetlights and fading into shadows. I'm nostalgic. And things are a little different now, but hauntingly familiar. But, more on that later... I need to savor these quiet nights while I still can.
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